Once We Were Warriors
by razzle-dazzle-me
Summary: AU. Hogwarts? No, Harry never went: instead he's a porn star living in the treacherous underground world of orgies and carnage. Meanwhile, the Order's search resumes unfounded ... but not for long.
1. Of Beauty and The Beast

_Summary: (AU) Hogwarts? No, Harry never went - instead he's a porn star living in the treacherous underground world of orgies and carnage. Meanwhile, the Order's search resumes unfounded ... but not for long._

_Disclaimer: I don't own it. This is sort of a drabblish response to Surarrin's 'A Simple Challenge'. Yay._

--- ---

**Once We Were Warriors**

**Prologue: Of Beauty and The Beast**

--- ---

"Albus? _Albus_?"

She lords over his desk, demanding attention, flapping a flimsy paper in his frazzled face. Her shrill words stop him dead; send a chill tingling painfully down his spine. A pudgy hand is frozen halfway to his mouth with a greedy handful of sticky lemon drops, and it trembles, slightly, wavering in his indecision.

Her voice is tight, a knotted void of apprehension and extreme delight. "I … I think I've found him."

Albus is dumbfounded, his mouth hanging agape. "Found him, Minerva dear?"

"Yes!" she cries, jubilant, nearly wetting herself - the old Transfiguration Professors' bowls just aren't what they used to be.

"But found _who_?"

"_Who_?" Minerva repeats, her thin lips further thinning. "_Him_! I've found _him_!"

"What?" Albus is confused, his old brow wrinkled. "Found _who_?"

"Oh, you know who - "

"You Know Who?" Albus shouts, standing quickly to his feet, scarlet chintz chair knocked angrily to the floor. "Dear Merlin, woman, why didn't you just say so!"

Minerva gives up. Irritably flipping her hands in the air, she squints her eyes and throws the paper hard towards his overlarge nose.

--- ---

When little Harry Potter was only seven years old he ran away to Wonderland: an underground world of sex, drugs and party-hard rock n roll. Looks were power; the beautiful reined, the beautiful survived. Harry learnt quickly that brushing his hair would be tantamount to success.

And so it was that young Harry shed his name and followed a dream, a hope, an aspiration - and a trail of glow-in-the-dark, lubricated condoms.

For seven years after the British Ministry of Magic tried to find him. Their search was futile, though constant sightings crept up in the press. Most were printed only in _the Quibbler_; a notoriously awful magazine that repeatedly insisted Harry Potter was living happily in Belgium under the alias Harvey Headbanger – as the renowned and infamous porn star.

--- ---

"It does no harm to check, Albus. No harm at all."

He rubbed his nose, deftly avoiding her piercing, penetrating glare.

Minerva grinned triumphantly.

--- ---

A hand rests on her hip, ardent and apathetic. She flicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth, taps a finger gently to her thigh.

She's the epitome of illustrious, fanciful good-looks; long legs, full breasts, wide blue eyes and flowing locks of blonde. And she's naked - standing over the bed for all to admire, pensively watching him in his restless, labored sleep.

"Mary?" he asks, cracking open one big green eye, his deep baritone thick with unwilling slumber. "Is that you, Mary Sue?"

Mary smiles.

Harvey smiles.

Hearts throb across the world and pulses escalate drastically.

He's leaning forward, then, and they all know what is to come. Or cum?

He rolls over, exposing all that can be exposed, steadily meeting her gaze. Then he's up on perfectly toned arms, and she's by his side, lips parted and ready and … then he pukes.

_Pukes?_

On her chest. And it's messy – spaghetti and meatballs.

Mary shrieks.

"Stop! Stop! Good God, boy, _cut_ - "

Lights swiftly clicked on, sound buzzed, disgruntled chatter arose. The cameramen exchanged weary glances and eye rolls.

"Is something wrong, Smithy?" Harvey chokes out.

The director was livid. "Damn it, Headbanger - have a bloody break. You're sober or you're sacked, got it?"

Harvey glared. Oh, fuck the fucking job, fuck the fucking slag, and fuck the fucking fuck -

_Fuck that!_

Broadcasting his trademark pout, Harvey slowly turned away, wiping his mouth on the silk sheet and flounced off, a little wobbly and still quite bare, to his change room to sulk.

He stopped halfway down the corridor and shouted over his shoulder, "I quit!"

--- ---

_The Boy-Who-Got-Lost: Spotted Again With Big Ben!_

--- ---

For ten drearily long, sickeningly sour years Albus Dumbledore had looked - had searched every bloody crack and crevice on the earth's bloody crust, for Merlin's bloody sake, and he had yet to find any trace of the damn boy anywhere. But Albus knew - he _just knew _that Harry was alive, just waiting to be found, waiting for them - _for him_, and Albus simply _had_ to find the boy if it was the last thing he'd ever bloody do.

"But in _the Quibbler_, Minerva? Really, you should know better - "

"_Look_, Albus. Just look at that picture!"

Albus eyed the paper grudgingly, glaring at the tidy black-and-white print perched upon his desk.

Harvey Headbanger gazed up at him mischievously from the cover page, winking suggestively and blowing kisses.

No, time had not been kind at all to poor old Albus; a handful there, a handful here, lemon drop after lemon drop leading to a steady gain of pudgy pound after pound after pound, increasing consistently. And Albus, comprehending the likeliness of the image before him, promptly kneeled over and had a heart attack.

--- ---

"One hundred thousand pounds? Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

"Bloody hell, Juliette, that's almost as much as bloody _Dumbledore_ weighs - "

"Friday," she says, interrupting the tirade. "You've got until Friday."

"And there's nothing," he simpers, sneaking an arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer. "No other way I might _otherwise_ repay you?"

--- ---

"Oh, Harry!"

It was unquestionable; the resemblance an eerie certainty. He _had_ to be it.

"Who the hell are you?" Harvey asked rudely, sprawled easily over stained satin sheets. "Santa Claus and Mary-bloody-Poppins? Agh, I've told Trinity about this before - no-one over fifty, that's my rule. And see how she listens?"

It had taken them twenty-one hours; seven to apparate across Europe and clear customs, seven to find the apartment and seven more waiting in the dingy lobby for their appointment, watching countless seedy others strutting up and down the hall in stilettos and fishnets (both male and female alike).

Albus was quite fed up, not to mention - just entering into the room then - more than a little startled. "What's that, Harry?"

Harvey pouts, playing along. "Have I been a bad boy _again_?"

Minerva and Albus exchanged a ponderous look.

It's four o'clock in the morning and they're in a brothel. That much was gravely obvious. The room is small and dark and smelly, sparsely vacuous; one large bed adorning the center, a cheep little table off to the side, French doors leading off to a rotting balcony outside. Overflowing ashtrays, cigarette butts, empty bottles of liquor and half drunk glasses of wine are littered _everywhere_.

"And what are you gonna do, huh?" Harvey rolls over onto his stomach, laughing. "Oh, just spank me - I know you want to."

"No!" Albus cries, shielding his face from the view of Harvey's ... thingi. "No, we don't want _that_!"

"Oh?" Harvey asked, thinking hard. "What about this?"

He mimed.

"NO!" Albus and Minerva chorused, cowering fretfully.

"Well what _do_ you want, then?" Harvey raised an eyebrow, looking Albus up and down. "Dresses are more your thing, right? And it'll cost you extra for the cellulite, by the way - I don't do this shit usually, I'll have you know."

A poignant silence befell them.

Harvey sat up from the bed, stretching taught arms over his head. He yawned, adding in a mumble, "I'm just a _bit_ short of cash at the moment." Then he raised an eyebrow, biting his lip, and looked at Albus again, disgruntled and clearly unsatisfied. "But I'm not sure I'm_ this _desperate, just yet. How much are you paying again?"

Albus had had enough. "_What_?"

"You deaf too, old man?" Harvey rolled his eyes. "I'll spell it out for you, lard-arse: loose the fucking pounds and come back a century younger. _Then_ I might consider it." He turned to Minerva and blanched. "Ew - don't think I'd be able to get it up with your ugly mug looking back, eh?" he laughed.

Minerva was in shock.

Albus was scandalized. "Excuse me, dear?"

"Oh, don't you dearie me," Harvey warned, waggling a finger in front of the old codgers swollen nose. "That'll definitely cost extra."

"Cost?" Minerva spluttered. "All we want to do is talk to you, Harry."

Harvey looked bored, and a little insulted. "Who the hell is this Harry bloke you're shitting on about? Dudes, I'm _Harvey_. Harvey Headbanger? Don't you know? I'm only practically famous!"

"Harvey," Albus spoke slowly, frowning, "You've got the wrong idea."

Harvey didn't much like the sound of that at all. "Mind if I smoke?" he asked, a fag in his hand already lighting up.

"Do you know who your parents are, Harvey?" Dumbledore asked him kindly, starting again.

Harvey eyed his wristwatch, the seconds ticking by traitorously slow. But time wasn't an issue - he charged by the minute. "Yes," Harvey lied, replying.

Albus pretended not to have heard. "We've been looking for you for years, did you know that?"

"Yes," Harvey lied again slowly, bemused.

"Harry," Albus spoke calmly.

Harvey glared -

"_Harvey_," Albus corrected, apologizing, "Did you know you're a wizard?"

"Well, duh," Harvey rolled his eyes. "And will you _please_ cut all the fucking 'Harry' crap! What the hell is up with that?"

"You knew!" Minerva cried, interrupting, and she would have been jumping up and down for the arthritis in her kneecaps, Harvey snidely bet. "You've known all this time about the world of magic and you never sought us out?"

"_Sought you out_?" Harvey laughed, eyeing her warily. "As if!"

"And so you know who Harry Potter is?" Albus pressed.

Harvey began to shift uncomfortably, scratching his stomach. "Harry Potter?" he asked, frowning. The name _did_ sound vaguely familiar.

"Yes," Albus began, and there were unshed tears blazing in his eyes; tears of sleepless nights and regrets, deplorable tears of hopelessness and merry tears of faith. "_You_ are Harry Potter, Harvey. We think, that is - we will need to run a few tests, just to be sure."

"Right," Harvey said, disbelieving, taking another long drag. He had to get this straight. "When I ran away," he started.

"You mean when your relatives kicked you out?" Minerva cut in brashly.

Harvey growled. "No, I ran away!"

Albus frowned. "But that's not - "

"The point is," Harvey huffed, "I was neglected! Abused! Tormented and ridiculed!"

" … Yes?" Albus prompted, raising a brow. "So? You're alive, aren't you?"

"Barely," Harvey goaded. "I just got fired now, didn't I?"

"I thought you qui- "

"Whatever," Harvey snapped. "And you left me there! With those ghastly people?"

"It was in your best interests, I assure you," Albus told him hurriedly.

Harvey snorted. "Why are you even here? What the hell do you want me for _now_?"

"Harry," Minerva said brightly, happy the boy was finally seeing reason. "We'd like you to come back to Hogwarts with us."

"Hogwarts?" Harvey snickered, snorting. "Yeah right."

Albus beamed, mistaking his sarcasm for sincerity. "There's still so much you need to know, young Harry."

Harvey paused for a moment, reconsidering the ridiculous notion, resisting the urge to up and leave before the weirdo's got dangerous - struck as he was by a sudden, masterful plight. "Saint Nicolas," he began tentatively, focusing hard on Albus. "I'm famous there too, right? In this_ magical _world of yours?"

"It's Albus," Albus said stiffly, correcting him.

"Right, Dick, but I am famous, aren't I? A bit of a mysterious celebrity?"

"Yes, that's quite right."

Harvey grinned, baring his teeth. "And that'll make me rich now too, wont it?"

Minerva nodded her head vigorously, her smile fond, oblivious to Albus' growing distress.

"I'm in."

--- ---

_A/N: Ah ... right. Many thanks for reading ;)_

_xxoo_


	2. In Hindsight, Blindsight

_Summary: (AU) Hogwarts? No, Harry never went - instead he's a porn star living in the treacherous underground world of orgies and carnage. Meanwhile, the Order's search resumes unfounded ... but not for long._

_Disclaimer: Blah blah blah. Not mine. Blah blah blah._

--- ---

**Once We Were Warriors**

**Chapter One: In Hindsight, Blindsight**

--- ---

_Party hard. Die young._

_Leave a fucking gorgeous corpse, cause pretty wont cut it._

--- ---

Harvey didn't particularly feel inclined to dress, but Albus had wearily and most strongly insisted. He might not of, if he'd had a chance to glance into Harvey's obscure assortment of items pertained to the messy wardrobe. Wearing tight black leather pants and a deep purple wife-beater, Harvey strutted out of the bathroom, still zipping his fly, heels of his favorite cowboy boots clicking merrily along the way. Leading the two elderly folk out of his bedroom and locking the door firmly behind them, Harvey escorted the professors out into the hallway and along the corridor through to the back entrance.

When Harvey bumped into Minerva and had to grab at her waist to straighten himself, Albus turned an eye, thinking the lad a little graceless.

When Harvey scolded a cactus ornamenting a sharp corner outside of the lift, referring to the plant in a scathing hiss as 'Poppins', Albus thought it a tad odd.

But when Harvey tripped and fell, tumbling right down the one hundred and seventy seven steps onto the building's ground floor, Albus realized there was something more than a just a trifle wrong with the boy.

Realization crashed mercilessly down upon him, and Albus had to furiously blink – obviously Harry was a drunk. Either that or a junkie, or perhaps even an addict of something more obscure.

"Are you alright there, lad?" he called down to Harvey, who was twitching in a fetal position.

Harvey groaned, the scene swimming dizzyingly around and around in his pounding head.

Albus and Minerva hurried down to his aid.

"Harry!" Minerva cried, brandishing her wand and sending a quick diagnosis spell spinning into his stomach. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," Harvey told her grumpily, sitting up.

Albus frowned. "Is there something ... er ... something you think we ought to know before heading off, Harry?"

Harvey glared -

"I mean, Harvey?"

Standing on wobbly feet Harvey straightened up, picking the dust off of his wife-beater. "Well," he began. "I could only tell you if you swore your undying love and obedience to my every passing whim. It's that top-secret. Do we have an agreement?"

Albus wasn't too sure he wanted to accept the offer, but Minerva was nodding and Harvey had already started speaking again -

Lowering his voice and leaning in conspiratorially, Harvey whispered, "I can't see a damn thing."

"You can't see a thing?" Albus repeated, a little hysterically.

"No," Harvey said, wiggling an eyebrow. "I can't see a _damn_ thing."

"You mean to say," Albus stumbled, tripping on his words as his mind fought to catch on. "That you're - that you're near-sighted?"

"Keep your bloody voice down, will you?" Harvey cried. "We can't let the whole fucking world know! And anyway, I'm _far_-sighted."

Albus had the courtesy to look bit sheepish, and wrung his old wrinkly hands by his side.

"Would you mind greatly if I took your arm?" Harvey asked Minerva. "A little guidance and I can manage fine."

Minerva was quite flattered, and quickly supplied her hand in his.

"Why don't you get yourself a pair of glasses, Harry?" Albus asked him, his voice dangerously low as he eyed Minerva moving in closer and fluttering her lashes. "Your father was just the same!"

"Don't you know anything?" Harvey goaded, snorting at Dumbledore - the greatest brain of the century. "A porn star wearing glasses? That's utterly preposterous!"

Albus rolled his eyes.

"You really can't see anything at all?" Minerva asked him.

"No, not really," Harvey told her truthfully. Blindness didn't seem to bother him at all. "Come on then, let's get this over with." Harvey pointed to where he thought the door was, poking Minerva hard in her bosom. "My ride's parked just outside."

--- ---

The morning sun had yet to rise, hidden under a soft grey blanket of miserable, scolding clouds. Rain fell lightly, spat from the heavens above in dreary, spiteful loath. In the underground car park, resting directly under the building, Harvey shivered.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he told Minerva wisely.

Both pretended not to hear when Albus muttered, "So do I."

Perhaps they shouldn't of.

As the trio stepped along the rows of shiny cars, an engine roared - brakes were yanked back and the accelerator slammed on and the car, a sleek new Volkswagon, sped up around the corner of the car park to stop abruptly, rudely blocking their path.

The doors of the Volkswagon snapped opened and people were getting out - a whole lot of very threatening, very _angry_ looking people. Harvey wasn't exactly sure how many of them there were, but he knew they were outnumbered drastically - and any fight outnumbered was one to scamper and quickly hide from, he had always thought.

"Where's my money, Headbanger?" one of the thugs yelled.

Harvey didn't hesitate as he pointed a finger at Albus. "He has it!"

The thug growled, signaling to his thuggy friends, and the terrible sound of the safety catch swung back from a gun echoed about the eerily quiet lot.

"You were meant to pay up last week, Headbanger," the first thug began again. "Boss 'aint too happy now, is he boys?"

The other thugs laughed, and the clamor of more guns being drawn resounded in the empty space.

Harvey did the only thing he could do, then - he wrenched his hand from Minerva's and dived behind a parked Mercedes. The thugs cried indignantly to his flight and gunfire rang through the air, hammering into the car and all that surrounded it.

"Now look here," Albus began calmly, drawing a shield around his fellow professor, but no one paid any attention.

The windscreen of the Mercedes smashed and glass sprayed everywhere. Harvey screamed shrilly.

"Stop!" Minerva tried, but the thugs gave her no heed either, moving away from their car and on towards where Harvey cowered, curled in a ball with his arms over his head.

Albus deigned the situation worthy enough in the life-threatening degree to draw forth his wand and restrain them.

"Stand back!" he yelled, stepping to make a protective barrier in front of Harvey.

The leading thug only raised an eyebrow at the strange old man in a dress, before reaching out and yanking the stick from his sweaty grasp. Albus's reflexes, so much alike to his figure, just weren't what they used to be. Minerva shrieked and wet herself again - _damn menopause_, as she too was gruffly pushed aside.

Harvey briefly considered attempting a runner, but something held him back. He dearly prayed it wasn't a late-blooming conscious. Then, in a courageously brave act Harvey hoped never to have to repeat, he reached behind his back and pulled a pistol from the band of his leather pants. Aiming as steadily as he could at one of the blurry figures hurrying towards him, Harvey pulled the trigger again and again.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

Albus shrieked. "Harry, you bloody idiot, you hit _me_!"

"Whoops!" Harvey cried, and directed his aim at another blurry figure.

BAM. BAM.

"To the left!" Minerva cried.

BAM.

"Your other left!" Albus yelped.

BAM.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

"Is that all of them?" Harvey yelled.

"Nearly!" Minerva yelled back.

BAM. BAM.

The rest of the standing thugs - who were in fact all gentle, kind hearted beings whom would only have gone so far as to threaten Harvey at all - chose then to abandoned the scene, jumping back into their Volkswagon and speeding away at a hundred miles an hour.

Harvey stood and yawned, returning the steaming pistol to his pants. "Well then," he coughed. "Shall we get going?"

Minerva heartily agreed, and Albus - clutching angrily at the freely bleeding wound on his leg - grabbed his fallen wand from the ground and hobbled on in the direction Harvey gestured.

Reaching the end of the car park stood a brilliant motorbike, big and shiny and masculine.

Minerva smiled at the tempting contraption, her narrowed eyes twitching in excitement.

"What are you doing over there?" Harvey asked, waving his arms across from where Albus was leaning faintly on Minerva. He stood just outside of a weathered old Volvo that looked very much like it had long ago seen its better days.

"_That_ one?" Albus asked. "You drive a _Volvo van_?"

Harvey was nearly frothing at the mouth, as he glared condescendingly at Albus. He was rather overprotective when matters concerned his trusty, rusty van. "And what the hell is wrong with that, grandpa?"

"Nothing, nothing," Albus told him quickly. "Nothing at all."

Harvey sneered, turning back toward the van and patting it lovingly.

"But really," Albus said, "we'd better apparate."

"Appropriate?" Harvey repeated worriedly. "How about you give me my keycard and I'll meet you there?"

Albus waved his hand, quickly dismissing the idea. "No," he said, more than a little suspiciously. "I think it best we travel together."

Harvey huffed, his impatience growing. "How about my bank number? That ought to do."

"Have you apparated before, Harvey?" Minerva asked him kindly, ignoring the query.

"What kind of a question is that!" Harvey cried, flapping his arms indignantly. "I'm a bloody porn star, of course I've appropriated. I have twelve kids already and it's a job in itself to avoid those welfare buggers, I'm telling you now! I certainly don't need anymore _appropriation_, and definitely not with either of you ugly old bitches!"

"No, no," Minerva scolded, correcting him. "_Apparate_ - have you ever _apparated_?"

Harvey blinked. "What the fuck is that?"

"You've never heard of apparating, dear boy?" Albus mused, clutching his bloody leg and wondering why no one had offered him any assistance, or even asked if he were ok. "But how could you know enough of the magical world to recognize that you're a wizard, to be familiar with the story of the Boy Who Lived, but never have heard of apparation, our most formidable mode of transport?"

"What?" Harvey blinked again. "I'm a _what_?"

"You said before that you knew!" Minerva cried.

"Yeah, and I bloody well lied now, didn't I!" Harvey screeched. "Ew! I'm infected! I'm a fucking_ freak_! Ew! Ew! Ew! I can feel it on my skin, oh my God!" Harvey screamed in agony and dropped to the floor, rolling about on the wet pavement. "It's biting! It hurts! Get it out of me! Help! Help! Ew! Quick, I insist you operate this minute!"

Albus and Minerva exchanged a worried glance, and Albus took from his pocket the crumpled wrapper of a lemon drop - in a flash it was a portkey.

Forcibly or not, Harry Potter was going to Hogwarts.

--- ---

_A/N: Still reading?? Wow. I'm impressed :)_

_xxoo_


	3. Magical Wands

_Summary: (AU) Hogwarts? No, Harry never went - instead he's a porn star living in the treacherous underground world of orgies and carnage. Meanwhile, the Order's search resumes unfounded ... but not for long._

_Disclaimer: Yeah, right. Don't own it._

--- ---

**Once We Were Warriors**

**Chapter Two: Magical Wands**

--- ---

Albus, in a rare act of greatest intellect, swooped his wand from his pocket and blasted a stunner straight at Harvey.

"Albus!" Minerva cried angrily, abandoning the Headmaster - who had previously been leaning on her to support his rather enormous weight, to run as quickly as her arthritis enabled her over to Harvey. "What in Merlin's name possessed you to do _that_?"

"We weren't making any ground," Albus grunted, groping at his leg as he struggled to remain standing.

Minerva glared at him and grabbed Harvey's arm, pushing the portkey into the boy's palm, then - in the blink of an eye - the car park was empty again, as two loud cracks snapped through the strenuous air.

--- ---

"First things first," Albus told Minerva in the infirmary, "I'd like to be absolutely positive this is the Harry Potter we're after."

Minerva pursed her lips. "Of course this is our Harry!"

Albus sighed, but he wouldn't abandon all hope just yet - "Yes, Minerva dear, but it would be prudent to not factually confirm such a celebrated identity to the best of our capabilities. We must cross the I's and dot the T's, lest not mistakes be made and no persons ill wronged."

Minerva frowned, "Isn't it - "

"Oh, whatever," Albus snapped.

Madam Pomfrey, hearing the tirade, bore down on the Headmaster with a large vial of her strongest sleeping drought. "Be a good boy and drink this right up," she cooed, like she would have to a first year. "Your leg will mend just fine now, Albus, never you mind."

Albus opened his large gob and swallowed the horrible potion in a gargling gulp.

--- ---

"Ah, Mr Potter!" a small voice rose up through the comfortable quiet, greeting him pleasantly. "You're back in the land of the living at last!"

Harvey opened his eyes wearily, looking up – and couldn't help but _shriek_ like a little girl.

"What the bloody hell are you?" he cried, pulling the covers of the bed up high against his chest.

The - _thing_ - only smiled, encouragingly. "Don't be afraid, my boy," it chuckled. "You're in the infirmary - had a bit of a fall, I hear! Madam Pomfrey said you'd be awake soon, and Minerva didn't want to leave you on your own."

"You mean to say," Harvey glared, "that you've been _watching_ me _sleep_?"

The 'thing' nodded merrily, bobbing its blurry head in front of Harvey's bed. "Yes, yes, that's quite right. Let me introduce myself, Harry - I'm Professor Flitwick, I'll be your charms Professor during your time here at Hogwarts!"

"I've got enough charm already," Harvey said hastily. "I don't need any wack Professor!"

"Are you up to NEWT level, Mr Potter?" Flitwick asked him eagerly.

"You have standards?" Harvey said blandly, his voice more than a little doubtful. "Then I pass them in bounds."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Flitwick cheered.

"Yeah," Harvey agreed, closing his eyes again. "_Wonderful_."

--- ---

"Potter?"

Harvey was dimly aware of someone poking him in his swollen stomach.

"Potter?" the grating voice insistently asked again.

"Potter? Potter! POTTER."

"_What_?" Harvey grumbled, turning away and clamping a hand over his streaming eyes.

The person poked him again,_ harder_.

"What the fuck to you fucking want?" Harvey spat, finally opening his poor bleary sight up to the ugliest, most horrendously repulsive man he'd ever laid blind eyes on. Harvey knew the terrible image would stay with him for the rest of his life, haunting his dreams and chiding his sins.

"Potter, wake up," the man said snottily. "I need your blood."

In an instant Harvey was awake, wide eyed and terrified. "Get away!" he cried. "Get away, get away!"

The man only sneered, and Harvey thought drearily - his blindness in consideration - he might have been clutching a double-edged axe. When it came to survival, Harvey had always done well for himself. Looking about for a weapon, or something he could throw at the assailant, Harvey grabbed an object from his night-stand and hurtled it as hard as he could where he thought the man was looming above him.

A crash rang out to his left (or maybe it was his right?) and Harvey was quite sure he thought he heard the now familiar sound of Albus yelping in pain.

"Some ugly bat is trying to kill me!" Harvey screamed desperately, but no one seemed to hear, for no one came to his rescue.

"Stop it, you useless brat!" the horribly ugly man yelled.

"Away with you, fiend!" Harvey yelled back. "Go prey on someone in your own league, the world could do with less frightful hideousness!"

The man took a deep breath and seemed to start again, speaking to Harvey as if he were an imbecile. The mistake was easy to make, he thought. "I'm Professor Snape," the over-grown bat began slowly. "I'm here to get a blood sample from you, Mr Potter, so that we might determine if you are whom we all very much hope you're not."

Harvey waved a hand in dismissal. "I'll save you the bother, then - I'm _not_ Harry Potter, I'm_ Harvey Headbanger_."

Snape twisted his ugly mouth, making himself even uglier. "I do believe, however much it goads me, that you are in fact the idiot Potter's even more idiotic offspring, and we will conduct the hereditary test - with your say or not."

Harvey pouted. "You can't do that, I have rights!"

Severus rolled his eyes. "It's relatively painless."

"_Relatively_?" Harvey repeated, crossing his arms against his chest. "What does _that_ mean!"

Snape shrugged his shoulders vaguely and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _hypochondriac_. "We can give you a drought for the pain, if you must insist. Or put you in a magically induced coma."

"Magic's not real!" Harvey laughed, snorting at the man's seriously dour look.

"Actually," Snape chided in his most insufferable tone, "It is."

"Oh, really?" Harvey sniggered, disbelieving. "Prove it then, why don't you!"

Sneering most unpleasantly Snape grasped onto his wand, bringing it out from a pocket of his long black dress, and waggled it before Harvey's nose. "This, Mr Potter, is my wand."

Harvey snapped his eyes shut in horror - never, never did he want to see Snape's wand! And then it all started to fall neatly into place, the last horrendous pieces of the damnable puzzle Albus had brought him to landing jauntily into abstract reason. Hogwarts, similarly alike his previous home before it, was just another brothel. Perhaps one with bizarre role-playing tendencies, but just another brothel academy nonetheless.

Harvey pretended to be very impressed. "Your wand? Oh, your wand! Your wonderful magical wand! I have a wand too, and I know how to use it. Would you like to see?" he asked, leering at the 'Professor'.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a wand."

"Oh, yes I do!" Harvey told him jubilantly, wondering what exactly Snape could have possibly meant by his last remark. "And mine's much longer than yours, and at least thirteen times thicker."

"Such a wand would be ridiculous, Potter. You're obviously lying," Severus spat. "Do you still want to see me work some magic, then? Do you still doubt it?"

"I work great magic with my wand as well," Harvey told him, interrupting, repulsed at the thought of Severus in sexual activity and trying hard to mask his giggles. "Much better magic than you could ever dream to manage, I bet."

Snape's lip curled. "How much?"

Harvey sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders. He was never one to miss an opportunity like this. "Nine hundred million ba-zillion squillion trillion pounds."

"You're on!" Snape laughed nastily, swinging his greasy hair away from his ugly face. Potter was meant to be rich - he could afford it!

"And what on?" Harvey asked. Following Snape's bland confusion, he added, "On whom shall we unleash such vast magical talent?"

Snape's beady eyes scoured for any persons in the near vicinity. Harvey would have helped, but for his blindness. There were only two options, though - Albus, lying in the bed next to Harvey's, or Madam Pomfrey.

The Headmaster, being temporarily unconscious, was the better option, Severus concluded quickly.

"Albus," Snape told Harvey.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Harvey seethed, "and I refuse! Choose another, _anyone_ else!"

"We could use an inanimate object, if you'd prefer - "

"No!" Harvey rolled his eyes. "That is _so_ last year."

"Albus would be the easiest, though - "

"And 'easy' isn't always better, is it now!" Harvey cried. "Let that be a lesson to you, Professor!"

"Madam Pomfrey it is, then," Snape said finally, pointing out the Healer.

Harvey cracked his knuckles and worked the kinks from his neck. "Whose first up?" he asked, not at all liking the prospect of doing anything with the woman after Snape. "Shall we flip for it?"

Snape raised a thick greasy eyebrow. "Together on three."

"_Together_?" Harvey gagged.

"One," Snape began, as Harvey quickly threw back his sheets to discover his sexier clothes had been removed, and he now wore a fluffy pair of striped pajamas. He wondered who had taken off his clothes for him, and prayed it hadn't been the creepy little Flitwick.

"Two - "

Snape was standing and Harvey was up on unsteady feet. Snape had raised a stick high into the air, for reasons Harvey simply could not fathom, as he was already leaving, _cheating_ -

"Three!"

--- ---

_A/N: Yo. Hope this is retaining your interests :D It is the single most absurd thing I've ever written, but it's so easy to do, for some strange reason. As for slash - well. I don't like it, no, but any pairings for this would be widely diverse and frequently changing. Thanks as always for reading! _

_xxoo_


	4. Orange and Melons

_Summary: (AU) Hogwarts? No, Harry never went - instead he's a porn star living in the treacherous underground world of orgies and carnage. Meanwhile, the Order's search resumes unfounded ... but not for long._

_Disclaimer: Yeah, right. Don't own it._

--- ---

**Once We Were Warriors**

**Chapter Three: Orange and Melons**

--- ---

Just as Harvey leapt up, Madam Pomfrey turned around.

"Get back in that bed this minute, young man!" she thundered across the infirmary.

Harvey, just a little terrified, squinted over at Snape - who had hidden his stick behind his back and was whistling tunelessly.

"Bed!" Pomfrey shrieked again, making her way stormily over to them.

Harvey sniffed, quickly combed his irate hair with his fingers, and jumped back onto the bed, hiding under the covers. Having not reckoned on such a frightful temper, Harvey began to feel a little nervous about the bet he'd rather thoughtlessly entered himself into. But then, peeking over the sheet to glare at Snape, his confidence returned - the man's odious looks crept beyond cringefull in drastic leaps and bounds.

No - Harvey would win easily, without question. Nine hundred million ba-zillion squillion trillion pounds could not quite settle his debts, but it would make a decent start. Harvey only had to get the doctor into a better frame of mind, and perhaps a different, more sensual environment. It might take longer than he had thought it would, though, unfortunately.

A loud booming echoed from the door as some colossal force knocked, shaking Harvey from his scheming.

Madam Pomfrey, looking her most hostile, cried angrily, "Visiting hour's over!"

But the knocker, mirroring his force of before, had entered anyway.

It was a sight that sent trembles down Harvey's spine - the giant monstrosity, a mass of unnaturally large limbs and feral, smelly fur and horrible, thick black hair - was absolutely the most scary thing he'd ever laid blurry focus upon.

"Hello Pomfrey, Snape," the giant boomed. "I'm here ter take young Harry ter lunch - Minerva's order."

"To lunch?" Snape repeated. "You mean in the hall, with the other students?"

"That's right," the giant said.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Your funeral," he commented dryly. Harvey couldn't understand what that meant, and figured it must have been some sort of secret code. "I haven't got the brat's blood yet, though," Snape went on, confirming Harvey's devious suspicions -_ they wanted him dead for sure._

The giant nodded. "That'll have ter wait till later, then. The lad will need his strength."

Snape shrugged, uncaring. "Whatever," he said, and stalked off.

"I'm not finished with you yet!" Harvey called to his retreating back, reminding Snape of their agreement as he slammed the door behind him without a backwards glance.

Gingerly, Harvey pushed himself up from the bed.

"Harry Potter?" the giant asked fondly … far too fondly than would seem appropriate, or even natural.

Harvey shook his head. "No, I'm Harvey."

The giant bared its teeth savagely in a terrible grin. "I'm Hagrid," the beast told him happily.

"Where are my clothes?" Harvey asked the Healer, pretending the giant wasn't there.

"Oh, allow me," she said, and withdrew another stick from her pocket.

Harvey supposed the sticks must have something to do with a sort of fetish that was popular within the academy cliental. There were many things one could do with a stick, Harvey pondered, but that had never really been his sort of thing.

Pomfrey swished it about the air dramatically and Harvey laughed. But then, when Harvey looked down, something most bizarre had occurred - for where before he had worn a set of fluffy pajamas, he was now dressed in a ... well ... a _dress_. Never one to question memory blanks, Harvey pushed the strangeness to the back of mind, and focused on the more pressing matter at hand.

Harvey glared at Madam Pomfrey, unable to believe that she could have possibly made such a terrible, offensive mistake.

"I'm a boy," he told her hotly, seething in rage. "As in _male_ - a male that does _not_ like to wear _dresses_."

Madam Pomfrey regarded him oddly. "Alright," she said, already turning away, ignoring him and making no move at all to improve his embarrassing attire. "I want him back here as soon as you're done, Hagrid," she told the giant sternly.

The giant looked down at Harvey affectionately and Harvey harbored no doubt that, despite the conflicting wish of the beast to kill him in some most unpleasant way, he was obviously quite in love with Harvey as well. This scared Harvey even more, and he couldn't help but remember that the beast had probably just seen him naked, as he was being dressed. With this thought, Harvey decided he didn't want to go to lunch with the - thing - at all. Who knew what the giant could do to him on the way, and - worse yet - if it were him on the menu!

"I don't want to go to lunch," Harvey said, shaking with fear as sweat beading on his forehead, just as his traitorous stomach lurched.

"Sorry, Harry," the beast began. "But yer expected. Minerva's waitin' fer yeh, see."

Harvey pointed to where he had thrown the item from his bedside table. "But Dumdledoo is here still, isn't he? Shouldn't we wait for him?"

"Dumbledore?" Hagrid said, shuffling his feet. "Well, yes." The giant looked a bit embarrassed. "He'll be joinin' us later, when he's feelin' better."

Harvey signed, his wobbly knees trembling.

"Come on then," the giant insisted, heading for the door.

Resigned to his own piteously doomed fate, Harvey decided reverently to get one up on Snape before he was eaten alive. As he started walking Harvey pretended to trip, groping at Madam Pomfrey's upper midsection for support.

"Are you alright there, Mr Potter?" Pomfrey asked from behind him.

What? _Behind_ him?

Harvey quickly steadied himself, leaping away from Hagrid and where he had been abusing the giant's ... _lower_ region.

Bugger.

--- ---

Arriving at the great hall amazingly still all in one piece, Harvey ran away from Hagrid the first chance he got. He didn't get very far, though, knocking into a wall and falling on his bottom.

The student's grew silent, craning their necks to get a better look towards the clamor.

Hagrid hurried after him, manhandling his body as he lifted Harvey up off the ground.

"Ew!" he cried. "The beast is trying to rape me!"

"Now look here," Hagrid boomed again in his atrociously loud voice. "I was only helpin' yeh up!"

"That's what they all say, pedophile!" Harvey hissed back, struggling away from the giant's firm grip.

Free again, Harvey turned around and fled. Finding an empty seat on the table at the end, furthest away from where Flitwick was waving at him in a most stalker-esq manner, Harvey quickly sat himself down.

"Who the hell are you?" a blond boy next to him asked rudely.

"I'm Harvey," Harvey told the table at large, his chest swelling in glamorous pride. "Harvey Headbanger."

"The porn star?" the boy said incredulously.

"Yup."

One girl snorted. "As if! Why the hell would Harvey Headbanger be here?"

Harvey heaped a large spoonful of mashed pumpkin onto his plate. "I've been kidnapped," he supplied readily.

Around him the students exchanged furrowed brows and disbelieving smirks.

"Right," the blond said. "I'm Salazar Slytherin."

Harvey was sympathetic. "Dude - your parents must have absolutely loathed you."

"What?" the boy asked, confused.

"I used to have a really crap name too," Harvey confided. "But when I got an agent they let me change it."

"Oh. Ok."

Lunch passed slowly, conversation thrown hither and tither. Harvey thought the students all rather strange. The students all thought Harvey rather out of his mind. After a particular comment regarding Madam Pomfrey's cup size, which Harvey really was most curious to know, they all got up and stalked off to cram together on the other end of the table, leaving poor Harvey sitting all alone. Why the Healer's melons could be such a touchy topic, Harvey could only guess.

Taking it in his stride, presuming the students only jealous of his marvelous fame and fortune (metaphorically speaking), Harvey made his way over to the only familiar face he could spot - Minerva's. Climbing up onto the dais, Harvey sat himself down in the only empty seat, right at the center of the long, rectangular table that faced the four others. Harvey supposed it was probably Albus' chair, and felt a strange desire to reclaim it as his own, throwing Albus regally off his throne.

"Do you miss your other friends, Harry dear?" Minerva asked, shaking Harvey from his premonition.

Harvey couldn't be bothered repeatedly correcting people on his name anymore. If they were giving him this Potter's money, he supposed he'd (generously, mind you) allow them the leeway.

"No," Harvey answered shortly. "I don't have any friends."

Far from creating the effect he had hoped this statement would have, Harvey found Minerva's sultry grin only grew wider.

"Oh, too bad," she simpered, not at all sorry.

"Yeah," Harvey agreed dully, angry his guilt card had been wasted so.

"We thought we'd sort you next week, give you a bit of a chance to meet some new people and settle in to the curriculum," Minerva explained.

"What sort of curriculum, may I ask?" Harvey said slowly. "Only, from the general look of things, I'm sure I'll be far ahead of everyone else here."

Minerva smiled gently, and went on to blabber about the variously mundane subjects the academy covered - but Harvey had long before tuned out.

"When can I visit a bank?" he interrupted, eager to get his hands on 'Harry Potter's' credit - the sooner he did that, and won his bet with the ugly Bat, all the sooner he could make a hasty getaway and retire in Majorca.

Minerva frowned, scouring her patchy mind. "There's a Hogsmeade visit scheduled three weeks from now, I do believe."

"_Three weeks_?" he groaned. Harvey glared down at his plate intently, carefully examining the food Minerva had heaped there as best he could.

"Are you alright, Harry, darling?" Minerva asked. "Anything you don't like, just leave it."

"I only eat orange," Harvey told her as he eyed the Weasley twins below him hungrily.

"What was that?" Minerva said, pausing.

"Orange," Harvey repeated. "I only eat stuff that's orange."

"Why is that?" Minerva said, quite puzzled.

Harvey shrugged, looking down the long table for further orange prey.

"Well, there's got to be a reason!" Minerva insisted.

Harvey shrugged again, stabbing his knife down into the table miserably. Or, that is, what he had thought was the table - it was actually Minerva's hand.

Shrieking in agony, Minerva plucked the knife out from where it had pierced her flesh. "Harry!" she cried through gritted teeth, blood spraying out from the wound and onto her face, dribbling down her neck. "We're getting you a nice pair of glasses!"

"Ok," Harvey said indifferently.

"And you're going to wear them!" Minerva threatened.

Harvey scoffed. "Yeah, right." _To hell he would!_

Again Minerva mistook him. "Good lad," she said, nursing her hand.

From around Minerva, Snape leant back in his chair, catching Harvey's eye. Severus pointed down at a blurry student with awfully frizzy hair and huge buckteeth, licking his lips, and he mouthed - 'Care for a change of target?'

Harvey shook his head, sniggering.

It's be easy, he assured himself with flickering confidence. Win the bet, empty the bank account and he'd be gone in a flash, snap, crack. As simple as sex.

... right?

--- ---

_A/N: Gah. Thanks for taking the time :) _

_xxoo_


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